By NINA YOUNG
I walk into my local shop and I cringe. The woman behind the counter smiles at me and I know what’s coming; she hasn’t seen me since before I gave birth.
She asks me excitedly: “How is the baby?”
I look down because I don’t want to watch her reaction and I reply: “She passed away.”
I pay for my items and get out of there as quickly as possible.
Conversations like this are unfortunately now a part of my daily life; my beautiful daughter died at just 6 weeks old after an injury during her birth caused irreparable brain damage.
There was a study done recently that showed that the day of a baby’s birth is the most dangerous day of their life.
Each year three million babies die within the first month of life, with one million dying on the day they are born. In Australia around 480 babies die each year before they are even a month old.
These statistics are not something I was aware of a year ago, but now I think about them every day, because now, I am one of them. I’m a statistic. My baby is a statistic.
My pregnancy was a surprise, an unexpected but joyous surprise.
My partner and I have been together for seven years and we felt more than ready to share our love with a baby and to begin a happy family together.